


Rhino's Blog Material

by blotsandcreases



Category: RPF - Fandom
Genre: Gen, M/M, Rhino's POV, various other zayn colleagues mentioned, zarry in LA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:10:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4897648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blotsandcreases/pseuds/blotsandcreases
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhino was given a new human whilst eating a pilfered treat, which the human didn't seem to mind. It worked out quite well in the end, since Zayn loved to cuddle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rhino's Blog Material

**Author's Note:**

> As for what this is, even I don't know. Just inspired by those cute pics of Zayn and Rhino. No salmons suffered in this fic.

It was not a secret that he ran a blog.

Nothing quite exciting like Britney the cat’s slew of posts slagging off her human couple, who bickered endlessly about tarts. “Oh there we go,” one entry had read, “they’re napping folks. Fuckwad’s just finished sucking and slobbering all over her dry tits – if you could call them that I think they’re fucking flesh chestnuts – I hope she keeps her heels I hope the tart would see its marks on his back. He loved it too.”

One reply had said, “Britney stop shedding on their keyboard ur spacing’s weird.”

He had replied, “I love tarts tho. The nice doctor gives me tart treats.”

Britney the cat had sent him, “Oh kid. Or if you’re not a kid then you must be an idiot? Or being funny,” along with a truly unnecessary keyboard smash.

He _was_ a puppy. He was smart, though. He liked to think he was smart. It took him a day after that to figure out that a word might mean more than one thing, like a human might have more than one friend. He was also the one who had suggested to his best mate Tweety if she could fly around and sneak him tart treats outside his treat time, in exchange for letting her in during thunderstorms. 

They found him like that, a week after Britney the cat’s message, with a half-eaten pilfered tart on the floor and his tongue licking a streak of apple sauce off his paw.

“Oh, love,” the nice doctor said, shaking her head. The corners of her purple lips were curling up. He noticed they always did that whenever she rang her human friend Jason, or whenever she ate a generous slice of chocolate mousse cake after a long day at the clinic beside this house. Or if she managed to give a human to his other friends.

He tried curling up the corners of his lips.

The human beside her laughed.

“Don’t think I didn’t know about your robin accomplice,” the nice doctor said, as she opened a cupboard above the sink and rummaged around. “They always do this,” she added to the new human. “Their friendship’s based on cuddles and tarts.”

“You’re a smart puppy, then, yeah?” the new human told him, giggling some more.

He slowly bent down and finished his tart. He might be caught but it was silly to waste a treat. Between bursts of flavour on his tongue, he slanted glances at this new human.

This new human had hair the colour of thunderstorms. But this human’s eyes were bright pools of softness and this human’s smile surely wouldn’t scare Tweety like the sharp lashes of rain often did. It didn’t scare him. This human had one of those faces where you’d feel fulfilled just by looking at it.

“A sneaky puppy,” the nice doctor said, crouching down with a tea towel. He was then treated to a vigorous face-rubbing.

“Can’t be sneaky without being smart,” the new human pointed out.

He was starting to like this human.

*

Which was quite fortunate, because the nice doctor had given him this human. Zayn, she called this new human. It would be a shame if he’d started out with less than positive feelings for Zayn, like he did with one of the nice doctor’s guests who’d talked to him like he was one of their human puppies. Britney the cat had been right about that odd inclination of some humans: it was fucking annoying.

In the time it took to leave the nice doctor’s house and its clump of lemon trees, and driving along a sun-bright street with rows of palm trees garlanding it on both sides, Zayn the human hadn’t talked to him like a human puppy.

They said goodbye to the nice doctor, and she drove off after a kiss on the top of his head and instructions on clinic visits for Zayn.

“Here we are,” Zayn said, upon opening a door. “Nothing much, really, but we’ll have a new house soon.”

Zayn appeared to really like windows. There were two windows in that first room, barely leaving any wall and big like bugged out eyes. In the patch of sunlight they left there was a squashy-looking green sofa, occupied on one end by a small pile of strange things with pictures and words saying “Iron Man” or other types of humans. On the low table beside the sofa teetered a pile of books. But most importantly, there on the other end of the sofa sat a laptop.

He waited for Zayn to put him down but it never happened. Zayn just toed off his boots before ambling into the kitchen, humming under his breath, and one-handedly pouring himself a glass of water. Then they returned to the sitting room where Zayn promptly bounced on the sofa and rang someone.

The conversation that happened was about houses. This went on for quite some time. Occasionally his new human would nuzzle the top of his head whilst speaking in that gentle lilting voice. It was nice, but he was getting quite impatient especially when there was a laptop beside him. Zayn’s hold was gentle, though, so he had no problem squirming a bit and pawing at the laptop nestled amongst a few cases of programs.

There was a complete set of Microsoft programs, and one case whose picture caught his eye. Rhinoceros 3D, it read. He pawed at it until he managed to turn it over. There were crisp and cool-sounding words there: multimedia design, graphic design, product design, jewelry design and some such.

He was trying to figure out what they meant, but that would be rather useless without the laptop. He peered over at the laptop, with its lid looking sad and suffering pressed down like that. So intent was he in alternating between willing the laptop to open whilst he was trapped within Zayn’s hug, and reading the case cover of Rhinoceros 3D, that he didn’t notice Zayn ending the conversation.

Nor did he much notice Zayn mumbling. He only caught fragments: “What do you think of pastel blue? Reckon pastel blue walls look nice?” and “Should I ring Baba? Like, he knows three more shades of blue than I do,” and “M excited to go back tomorrow, song’s working out really nicely.”

He did notice when Zayn fell silent for far too long, and when he looked up he found that Zayn had dozed off, mouth slightly open.

Now he and the laptop could be together.

*

He only managed one post, wittering away about having a new human, and when he was opening a new tab to search for Rhinoceros 3D, the power sputtered to death.

This human had let the precious go for so long without life support, good lord. He whined his distress for a bit, and then moved on, shuffling closer to the Rhinoceros 3D case.

Zayn stirred awake at around six in the evening to find him like that. Zayn chuckled at him. “Still keen on that?”

Zayn stretching forcibly reminded him of an awkward cat.

Then Zayn picked him up again, and he must have whimpered because Zayn assured him, “We’ll take this with you all right. Dinner first, yeah? Then we’ll play with it.”

Zayn proceeded to blast some music from the speakers half hidden by another pile of books. They stopped by the cupboard under the stairs so Zayn could rummage for something, which turned out to be a pair of slippers. There were pictures of odd yellow creatures on the slippers, most of them only with one eye, disturbingly.

He hoped Zayn wasn’t a mad scientist.

With a kiss between his eyes, Zayn set him and the Rhinoceros 3D case down on a stuffed armchair beside the large kitchen window. “Stay here, all right?”

He watched Zayn slice cheese and comment about a Chicago White Deep Dish he’d tasted. It sounded positively delicious and he was wondering if this was a ploy to make him very hungry. Zayn was in the middle of deciding if he should include it in a song or if he should just paint it, when his phone rang.

Zayn wiped his hands and, smiling widely, greeted, “Lo, Wali, what’re you doing up at this time?”

“Yeah,” Zayn said at length, nodding, then glanced back at him. “Just got him today, just a minute.”

He was resigned to a cheese talk like the house talk from earlier, and was quite ready to gaze at the Rhinoceros 3D case again, when he was distracted by Zayn hurrying towards him and pressing their cheeks together. “Okay, little fella. Smile for Wali.”

“Seen it?” Zayn said, returning to the conversation. “He’s really fond of that rendering program I got, you know. Rhino 3D. Nah, none yet. All right, ‘m gonna ring Baba tomorrow. And digital screens before bed stimulates the brain and doesn’t help sleep – yeah yeah whatevs. Yeah, see you soon. Love you.”

He pointedly stared at the cheese on the pink chopping board. Zayn beamed at him and didn’t seem perturbed.

His human seemed to be one of those who thrived off when the day had simmered down to the misty glow of street lamps. He watched Zayn multitask on toasting the cheese, cooking cocoa, and ripping open the pack of puppy food, all the while performing a sort of mystical dance which involved a lot of shoulders.

After they’d settled back on the sitting room sofa, Zayn with a tall plastic cup of cold chocolate, his human finally showed him this “rendering” program.

It was so cool. 

It blew his mind away. He bet this was better than being stepped on by heels, like Britney the cat’s one human. Zayn could design things on a computer and they could have the actual exact things.

When he tried to communicate how cool this was, Zayn grinned at him and said, “I know, it’s cool, innit.”

*

He spent the next day fooling around with the laptop.

Zayn had fed him and cuddled with him a bit before stepping out of the house with a gym bag slung over his shoulder. Also from what he understood, Zayn wouldn’t be back for some time, not until he was done for the day with a human called James.

He fiddled with Rhinoceros 3D and, since he really liked the case cover, tried his paw in rendering the minimalist rhinoceros outline, complete with his own fur and eye colouring. He did love to at himself in the mirrors. He tilted his head, not quite satisfied, and then tried again.

Then he made it as his blog icon.

After he deleted his file from Zayn’s folder, he made posts wondering what to do if his human turned out to be a mad scientist.

*

Zayn got home late from the studio on a Friday night, looking obviously knackered. He stumbled out of his boots and made his wobbly way into the sitting room, as if someone had whacked him with a salmon and he was enjoying it.

His human face-planted on the sofa cushion next to the laptop, saying, “There you are, Rhino. I swear you’re worse than Waliyha.”

Rhino.

Rhino. Like the program? He wagged his tail.

Zayn turned his face, pink, creased from the cushion embroidery, and smiling faintly. “Rhino. D’you like that? Since you’re, like, practically obsessed with it.”

Rhino nudged Zayn’s cheek with his nose.

Zayn smiled some more and shifted so he could put his arms around Rhino. “Man, you’re like the coolest kid. If I were my Baba I’d name me Batman.” He paused, seeming to think this over, and added, “Only I won’t run around the city dressed like a fucking bat, but still.”

After detailing to Rhino what he would be wearing instead, Zayn eventually heaved himself from the sofa so he could give Rhino dinner. Rhino chomped on his food whilst he watched his human with pity. Zayn poured melon milk on his cereal by mistake, but he just shrugged and polished off his dinner before promptly falling asleep on the sofa.

*

They moved to Zayn’s new house a few streets away, still too bright and smelling comfortingly of lemons. Zayn didn’t like lemons much, Rhino had discovered, because he thought they were too sour. Zayn could only stand them as lemon cakes, but he didn’t know how to bake. Unfortunately, neither did Rhino.

Zayn’s attempt at chocolate fudge bars still haunted Rhino’s dreams a bit.

“Wish we’d have some mangoes,” Zayn said, as they were sat on the front seat of the rumbling van.

“There’s a bunch of them,” the moving man said, “there on the farmer’s market a few blocks down.”

“Nah, thanks bro.” Zayn lifted one hand from Rhino’s back so he could adjust his snapback. “But I’ve looked. When I first got here. Real bland, though.”

The moving man laughed. “You shoulda asked for Guimaras mangoes, man. Trust me on this one.”

“Oh, okay.” Zayn beamed. “Hold on, let me just – note –” 

Zayn twisting in his seat for his phone added to all the jostling activity Rhino was subjected to. Thankfully they stopped not five minutes later or there would be funny vomit all over Zayn’s polo instead of those unfunny yellow one-eyed creatures.

At first glance Rhino wouldn’t have managed to tell apart the sun-drenched sky from the new house’s walls if not for the roof which appeared to be made from very large pebbles. And, as Rhino had expected, there were very wide windows.

Zayn helped with moving the boxes, and offered beer and biscuits to the other men. When they finally left, with advice on rubbish disposal and where to buy the best bread and mangoes, Zayn picked up Rhino and headed to the sitting room.

The first thing Zayn retrieved from the boxes was a framed photograph. By now Rhino was very familiar with its subtly pretty frame. It had been the last item to go into the boxes.

They sat on the floor, surrounded by blank walls and piles of cardboard, and Rhino listened as Zayn pointed out who was who in his family.

“Right, so they’ll be here in like two days. Okay. This is Baba.” He pointed to a smiling man with soft-looking eyes. “He’s a mild sort of person, you know. Lots of people always say, ‘Ah, Mr. Malik down the street, he’s a mild man.’” Zayn paused to scratch behind Rhino’s ear. “But lots of people also say fucked up things, so Baba has no problems telling them to fuck off in his mild way.” Zayn giggled at no doubt a memory of his Baba. “He’s amazing with words, and he’s so chill at cutting with them.”

“Here’s Mummy.” Rhino peered at a comfortable-looking woman, her chin resting on Baba’s shoulder. “She loves music so much like Baba loves plants,” Zayn continued. “She’s so organised, though. She’ll weep when she sees this mess. Also she doesn’t take shit, so I’ll probably tidy up what I can.”

“There’s Doniya. She’s the reason I have Rhino 3D in the first place.” Rhino wagged his tail, keen to meet the girl with a thick pile of hair perched artfully on her head. “She’s gonna insult my taste in socks once she gets here. But she’s a genius artist so let’s not show her my Rhino 3D files just yet.”

On the willowy girl next to Doniya, who was smiling like she just got told a joke that she was trying very hard not to laugh at, Zayn said, “There’s Waliyha. She’s dating her phone, I swear. She also reads a lot and I love it when I read her books cause of her margin notes.”

“Here’s Safaa.” The smallest person in the picture had eyes almost like the colour of the walls outside, and she was looking at Waliyha and full out laughing. “She’s our baby. Likes nail polish a lot. Also reading the newspaper.” Zayn said this as though it was something bizarre. “Which is cool, but I just get frustrated and annoyed whenever I do it so. She’s cool.”

Rhino glanced up at him, squirming excitedly. Now it was Zayn’s turn. He had longer hair in this picture, and those hanks not caught in a purple hair tie were falling down past his chin. They weren’t the colour of thunderstorms too, but of a deep and quiet night.

“That’s me,” Zayn said, pressing their cheeks together. “Your Dad,” he added, grinning at Rhino, tongue peeking out a bit. “I’m okay. I guess. Not quite Baba yet, but I’ll get there.”

*

As soon as Safaa had plonked down her valise, Rhino found himself engulfed by excitable arms and an overpowering whiff of melons.

“He’s so cute!”

Rhino preened before nudging her chin with his nose.

“You nerd,” Doniya told Zayn, pinching his nose, which made him half-heartedly bat at her arm with a plaintive call to their Mummy, “you named the poor puppy Rhino.”

“Don’t talk about my child like that,” Zayn said. “He’s got the coolest name.”

“What’s that? Zayn and naming?” Baba said, as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “Well he did name his favourite pillow Tiny Pillow.”

They all laughed, and Rhino huffed out his laughs as well, as Zayn said, “Oh, my god.”

“We had to sneak away and throw Tiny Pillow away, didn’t we, darling?” Mummy told Baba. “All we ever asked was that you let us wash him more often, Zayn. The stink became awfully unbearable.”

“Oh my god,” Zayn repeated, then tackled Waliyha, who wouldn’t stop shrieking with laughter. It devolved into a wrestling match, with lots of yelling and giggling.

Rhino snuggled comfortably with Safaa, who was cheering for the carpet.

“Would you like salmon for dinner, kids?” Baba asked as he picked his way around his children.

They had salmon for dinner. Rhino knew that Zayn loved chicken but hated fish. He once told Rhino that fish were probably descended from the aliens. “Those bulging glassy eyes,” his human had muttered as they’d hunted for milk, “and weird mouth, like.”

Salmon was the only fish Zayn liked. Rhino remembered comparing Zayn making music with Zayn being whacked around by a salmon whilst enjoying the whacking. That seemed accurate.

Rhino liked having the house like this, with chatter and with a kind of soft bustle at all times. Zayn was less hesitant to leave Rhino when he goes off to the studio, and Rhino didn’t mind much that he couldn’t use the laptop during the day. Everyone smelled good and loved him so it worked out quite well.

Doniya used the Rhinoceros 3D in the mornings, though, right after breakfast so Rhino made sure to cuddle by her thigh as she sat on the carpet, busily rendering on her pink laptop.

When she wasn’t taking pictures of her outfits, Waliyha was out in the garden rollerblading. Rhino didn’t see her much during the day because of that. 

But when late afternoon rolled around, Rhino would be with Safaa, who read and read newspapers and news magazines. Sometimes Rhino would get utterly bored and just look over at Mummy and Baba who were sat on the sofa. Mummy always made Baba tea at that time, and when she had put down the tray, with two cups and a plate of rich-smelling biscuits, on the sitting room table Baba would encourage her to put up her feet on his lap.

“Aww, so sorry for ignoring you, babe,” Safaa said. She put down her highlighter and pen, the various newspapers and magazines rustling as she moved to pet him. “But, this is a secret, okay. I’m doing this cause – okay, you won’t laugh. Cause I wanna work in an embassy. I said it, shhh.”

Rhino would miss them when they returned to their home.

*

Rhino loved his human, too. He was always trying to understand the things Zayn did, and sometimes he blogged about them.

When he was home on weekends, Zayn read a lot. There had already been piles and piles of books when Rhino had started living with Zayn, but then Mummy had handed some papers to Zayn one breakfast, saying, “From your cousin.” Another pile, fresh and crisp from the bookshop, appeared after that.

Rhino had been curious, so he peeked at those papers and saw they were reading lists of all sorts, titled with words like “Introduction to British Literary History,” and “Victorian Literature,” and “Gay Literature,” and “Non-Western Feminist Practices in Literature.” They all came from the same university, though. Rhino wondered if Zayn was also planning on working in an embassy. He’d heard from Safaa there were a lot of those.

Rhino was quite content because Zayn checked on him, or told him summaries of the stories. It was also entertaining because Zayn sometimes cursed under his breath, or took reading breaks.

“I wanna throw this book, my god,” Zayn had complained once, “but I don’t like mistreating books. We should get ice cream, Rhino.”

When he wasn’t reading by the pool, or sprawled reading on the carpet and demolishing packet after packet of tiny bears, or curled reading on the stuffed armchair, Zayn spray painted. He’d almost finished the entire wall on the corridor by his room, and Rhino would spend about an hour a day when he was left alone trying to make sense of the shapes and lines. No wonder his human loved those yellow one-eyed creatures, because some of Zayn’s drawings strongly resemble them, but Rhino did like the colours.

What amused Rhino were the times when Zayn would smoke something very different from a cigarette. Rhino knew about cigarettes: the nice doctor sometimes smoked them. 

But for this one, Zayn would often not let Rhino near him. Rhino was very insistent the first few times, though, so Zayn put a face mask on him.

Rhino still laughed about Zayn smoking and smoking, for over an hour, as the sun set down.

“Wonder what yellow sounds like,” Zayn had said at one point. “What do you think, Rhino.”

Rhino had thought, “As long as those weren’t the vile one-eyed creatures, it’d sound grand.”

“Or a mango,” Zayn had swept on. “What do mangoes sound like.”

*

Rhino had never stopped thinking about a word having more than one meaning to it, like a human might have more than one friend.

He was Rhino, but he was also puppy and baby and little fella.

His human was Zayn the human and also Zayn the Dad.

It was fascinating. Rhino blogged about it.

Zayn had more than one human friend, too.

Sometimes the nice doctor would visit, bringing with her more treats for Rhino and her human friend Jason, who seemed to be Zayn’s friend, too.

Jason the human and Zayn talked about clothes a lot, and sometimes they would argue about socks, but Zayn would almost always agree with Jason and Jason would almost always press a magazine on Zayn’s hands before he leaves with the nice doctor.

Another friend was the one called James, the one making music with Zayn. He only visited a handful of times, and Rhino liked best that time when James had arrived early one morning with a tent on the backseat of his car and Zayn had scrambled back to the house. “Where’re my lights! Oh my god,” he kept saying loudly until he dashed back outside entangled with a string of fairy lights.

Rare still were the visits from the human called Caroline, and her child Brooklyn who liked to pet Rhino a lot. Brooklyn was a baby younger than Safaa, so Rhino tried to be patient with her even as he felt that he could be losing tufts of fur from her excitable grip. There was also much talk about clothes between Zayn and Caroline, and Zayn agreed with her most of the time. They also talked about telly and Brooklyn.

Strangest still was one mid-morning, when Zayn was still stuck with a song, not quite to his liking yet but also not quite in his grasp. Rhino was grateful that Zayn had him wear a face mask since the odour of the spray paint was sickening.

Rhino sat there in a corner with a looming Iron Man drawing, plaintively watching his human paint with intent eyes and stiff shoulders. Normally, when it was just to “chill” Zayn would still have intent eyes but there would be music blasting and his shoulders wiggling in an odd jerky way.

The lack of music proved fortunate because they were able to hear the buzzer.

Rhino watched Zayn rip off his mask before heading to the front door. He debated whether to follow or just stay here, because there were days when Rhino just didn’t want to see other people.

The unfamiliar low drawl made Rhino’s ears perk up. He trotted to the corridor just in time to be blinded by the oddest looking boots he had ever seen.

Rhino closed his eyes and mentally said, “Oh my god.”

The human with the odd boots said, “Oh, you’ve got a cute puppy.”

And those tragic trousers. Paired with those boots. Rhino pressed his face on Zayn’s calf and whined in distress.

“Aw, baby,” Zayn told him as he was picked up, “it’s only Harry. He’s harmless.”

“Quite,” Harry the human agreed. “Look, I brought Zayn’s favourite biscuits.”

Rhino leveled him with a look.

“Baked them myself,” Harry the human continued.

So this human could bake. How fortunate. Rhino cast a brief despairing thought at his ruined memory of chocolate fudge bars.

Rhino sampled the biscuit as Zayn and Harry the human had tea in the kitchen and talked about plumbing. This Harry baked well, so Rhino wished this Harry would pop by more often. Rhino was growing exasperated at Zayn’s midnight “ninja” runs to the bakery down the street just so they could have treats.

“Lots of books you got here,” Harry the human remarked as he followed Zayn and Rhino back to the sitting room. “You planning on having bookshelves built?”

“Yeah, but with glass panes, like. Don’t want to dust every one of them every week.”

Harry the human laughed. “Mind if I borrow one?”

Rhino looked at this human dubiously.

Zayn hummed and tilted his head. “I write on them, though. Little comments. But all right.”

“I know,” Harry the human said. He headed to the pile nearest him with a faint smile.

“I want them back, mind,” Zayn said in his mild way.

“Course I’ll give it back. I’ll be borrowing again.”

Only if he brought treats, Rhino thought.

*

Harry the human didn’t pop by for several weeks, and that was the time it took for Zayn to wrestle happily with another song and also for the weather to dip in temperature, a gentle duvet of hush seeming to fall over them.

Rhino didn’t love sunny days like Zayn did so he was relieved that they wouldn’t bask by the little pool for the foreseeable future.

Sometimes Rhino would watch Zayn get frustrated, and rarely, angry. Rhino didn’t know what caused those angry moods so he just watched with sympathy as his human scrambled for the cupboard with used paper and proceed to tear them to shreds.

When Zayn had calmed down, he lay on the carpet like a starfish with an arm over his eyes and said, after a long silence, “Punching walls is bad for your bones, Rhino.”

Rhino was glad when Zayn began counting the days to see his family again. His human kept busy, even as he gave cheerful announcements to Rhino on the remaining number of days, sometimes leaving Rhino to the nice doctor or to Harry the human so that he could work all day with James.

Rhino wished he could tell his human that Zayn didn’t need to apologise about leaving him with others. He’d known the nice doctor since he was born, and Harry the human baked a lot and also read the same stories Zayn had but said different things about them to Rhino.

So Rhino would just nudge his nose on Zayn’s cheek, and listen to Zayn call his Baba or his Mummy or his sisters. 

Rhino had also come to expect Harry the human to return every Saturday when Zayn was home: to return a book and borrow another, to chatter with Zayn for hours and hours, and also to bring them lemon cake from the lemons collected from Zayn’s garden. Rhino loved those lemon cakes. He would eat them with Zayn as they lounged in the house during Zayn’s days off.

Two days before they see Zayn’s family again, Zayn stumbled home one night with a brown paper bag. He most certainly looked salmon-whacked tired but Rhino could see from the shine in his eyes and on the almost-giddy tilt of his smile that Zayn had finished the song and loved what it turned out to be.

“Guess what,” Zayn told Rhino, raising the paper bag. “I got us the sweetest mangoes.”

Rhino turned up the corners of his lips.

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> When not scrambling for coursework deadlines or daydreaming about fics I'm short on time to write, I'm over at blotsandcreases.tumblr.com sighing happily at all the great things. :)


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